


The Road To Hell

by wewillalwaysenduphere



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Boy King of Hell Sam Winchester, Gen, Sam Winchester Has Powers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-06
Updated: 2020-03-06
Packaged: 2021-02-28 21:01:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,025
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23043667
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wewillalwaysenduphere/pseuds/wewillalwaysenduphere
Summary: Dean should have known long ago that Sam wasn't human, but it takes him a trip to hell to find out.
Comments: 7
Kudos: 65





	The Road To Hell

**Author's Note:**

> For my boyking bitches ;)  
> Prompt: "Sam, put the gun down." - "Is that an order?"

Looking back, Dean should have known. He _could_ have known.

But hindsight is 20/20.

And Sam had always been so careful. Sam had always been...

***

When Sam had been thirteen, and young, and still skinny and short, and their dad had been called in because Sam had broken the jaw of some kid that bullied him, he could have known.

Neither John nor Dean were angry at Sam – what was this incident but proof that their training had been fruitful? – but the kid had been terrified, even when Sam apologized to him as mandated by the principal.

“I’m so sorry,” Sam had said, eyes wide and bright and innocent, “it won’t happen again.”

_Because you won’t dare fuck with me again._

Dean had shivered – and he’d seen his dad shiver, and seen the kid shiver. But Sam hadn’t spoken, and that last line must have been in his mind. Nothing else made sense. Sam’s smile, after all, was pretty and honest and his eyes the color of honey. His Sammy, Dean knew, was a good boy who deserved the world.

_And I will have it._

***

  
When Sam left for Stanford, and for the first time, his eyes had been cold. So cold it seemed to burn Dean when he looked at him, so cold Dean thought for a moment that Sam might not be human at all.

He could have known then, that the sharp intelligence, the relentless endurance, the unbreakable will that had made it possible for Sam to escape their father and get admitted to one of the best colleges in the country, could be used for much more nefarious means.

But Dean had never felt anything but love for Sam, had never wanted to do anything but protect him, and he’d understood Sam’s need to get away. It’s why he never said anything.

Sam and John had been screaming at each other for about an hour, and finally, Sam grabbed his bag, and said quietly, calmly, unlike anything he’d said in the last thirty minutes:

“I’m going. And you’ll let me.”

_Or I’ll have to make sure that you do, and you don’t want that._

Dean shivered. So did John.

Sam left.

***

Sam had saved Dean from Hell. Not in time, not before he’d been dragged down, not before Alistair had started with hooks, pins, needles and whips.

Not before Dean knew what it meant to suffer.

He had lost track of time – it must have been years in Hell – when Sam finally showed up, dark wings made of shadow curling around his form, his eyes glowing gold.

Hell had crumbled and reformed itself beneath his feet, the demons around him had watched him carefully.

“Put that down,” he’d said, and Alistair turned around. Smiled. As if he wasn’t afraid.

“And if I don’t?” Dean knew that smug smile. It made his soul shiver with the anticipation of pain.

_If you don’t, your screams will echo these halls for eternity._

It’s that voice, and the demons around Dean were shifting, almost as if they were hearing it as well, and Azazel paled, no one daring to break the silence until Dean said-

“Anyone else hearing voices?”

He laughed. Kept laughing when Sam killed the demon that tortured him for years like it’s nothing. Laughed when Sam carried him through Hell. Laughed when they put a jagged crown on Sam’s head. Laughed and laughed and laughed because finally, he must have lost his mind.

***

Hell belonged to Sam now. The demons, the legions, the tortured souls, it was all his now.

Dean could have lived with that. He could have accepted that. But Hell wasn’t enough.

Not for the Prodigy. The Boy King. The Antichrist.

Dean had rallied the hunters, had supplied them with everything, had carefully planned for months. They would march on hell. They would try to save Sam or kill him.

Dean knew they would fail, but they had to try. They had to.

What Dean hadn’t known was how merciless Sam would be. How easily he’d kill those he once considered friends. How he used their own weapons to blow holes into their skulls…

“Sam, put the gun down.”

Sam’s golden eyes turned to him.

“Is that an order?”

It wasn’t, and he knew. He knew Dean was begging, he heard it in the quiver of his voice, the desperation etching every syllable. He knew it from the look in his big brother’s eyes.

Slowly, Sam came closer. Up here, on earth, his wings didn’t quite exist – they were skirting the edges of planes, but sometimes, they were still casting a shadow.

“Why, Dean?”

Dean looked around – Bobby was dead, Ellen was dead, only Jo was holding on. Her, and a handful of others.

“I’ll come with you. I’ll be by your side. I’ll be whatever you need me to be. But let them go.”

Sam was quiet. For a moment, the gold in his eyes seemed to seep away, leaving only that honey tone that Dean had been sworn to protect when he was younger.

“What do I need you for?”

It sounded cold, but Dean could see the truth in his brother’s eyes.

“Whatever the King of Hell could use a brother for.”

Sam didn’t smile. But the right side of his mouth moved a little, and Dean knew he had won.

“If you go now, Winchester, we’ll hunt you as well.”

Dean turned around, quickly, before Sam could act.

“Shut up, Noah. I’m saving your sorry ass here. Leave, and don’t come back.”

“We’ll hunt you down like-“

_You’ll do as he says._

The words reverberated through Dean’s mind, cruel and commanding, merciless. Sam’s hand was resting heavy and final on his right shoulder, the weight almost crushing Dean.

The hunters left. Jo was the last one to go, and when she looked back, Dean tried a smile. The tear rolling down her cheek indicated just how greatly he had failed.

“I need someone to replace Alistair,” Sam remarked casually.

Dean lowered his head. Swallowed down his humanity.

“Yes, my King.”

Because when Dean was being honest, he had always known the day would come.


End file.
